


la petite mort.

by twozakis



Series: we're in the long run, let's stay forever [1]
Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, Lowercase, Soulmates AU, Supernatural Elements, tags to be added as it goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:00:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24280201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twozakis/pseuds/twozakis
Summary: jihyo never knew how to properly define love.(or, alternatively, love isn't as linear as park jihyo believed.)
Series: we're in the long run, let's stay forever [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1753810
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. suburban speed, and it smells like heaven

**Author's Note:**

> the title has nothing to do with the stupidly popular definition it has garnered. it's the literal translation, more emotional than anything physical, and most likely will never have anything to do with that specific other definition.
> 
> enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _there's a moment, so brief and fleeting, when you realize you need someone with you forever more._

( — 1920.)  
  


park jihyo doesn’t believe in soulmates. she doesn’t believe in fireworks after your lips touch and a splash of color behind your eyes when you first meet.

she rolls her eyes every time her parents retell their meeting story to anyone that will listen to a classic tale. today, it’s a sappy and cliché encounter between a wandering traveler with a loan he has to repay with his life and the daughter of a thriving bank owner who wants to help him live. two worlds that should never meet, but the spark and thrill too great to ignore.

(they always make sure to embellish small details, make them grander than what they are. sometimes, jihyo’s father is a rival mafia son, hellbent on securing revenge in the name of his fallen father that can only be obtained by stealing off with his only daughter. other times, her mother is a lowly kitchen aide that takes care of the grounds eldest son before he’s sent off to be wed to another.

no one knows the truth, though. that jihyo’s father was a dying soldier in a far off war. and jihyo’s mother, a war nurse with a kind heart in a cruel world, sank her teeth into his neck within seconds of his last breath.

but it always ends the same, regardless. their eyes meet. colors flash and fireworks pop. they fall in love.)

it depends on the time they’re living in, the way the people around them would react. and now, the people in their fancy suits and necks shining with pearls, preen at the exciting story from the new faces in town as they retell of their epic story of strife to greatness.

(each time, jihyo rolls her eyes all the same.)

——

“aren’t you tired of spewing that same story in every new era?” jihyo comments once the last stranger leaves their table. she hears them mumble about how extravagant it all is, a love story so moving, and groans audibly. “the people are so gullible and it’s unfair of you to string them along when they’ll never know the feeling from any of your stories.”

jihyo’s father laughs and she feels the weight of his words before he even says them,

“not everyone can be so lucky, jihyo. we just want to share the experience for those who never will.”

she swallows, knows the meaning rings true for the people they entrance _and_ for her as well.

(she doesn’t need love. doesn’t care for it. has never felt the need. she’s fine alone.

she’s _fine_.)

her mother’s touch to her hand startles her, but the loving and careful look in her eyes calms her no more than a second later. “have you not given any further thought to finding your own, dear? you do deserve happiness as well.”

jihyo knows they mean well. knows that they want her to have what they’ve had for hundreds of years. what their kind thrive off of to survive happily.

(she knows that they want to live out the rest of the life they choose to lead, knowing that she’s okay.)

but she shakes her head, anyway. she’s selfish and she only needs them to be happy.

she refuses.

she’s fine.  
  


* * *

( — jihyo & tzuyu; 1973.)  
  


chou tzuyu is the first person jihyo’s met in a while that isn’t instantly enamored with the glamorous spell her parents cast across town upon their arrival.

(tzuyu is sixteen and in that stage of ‘rebelling’ according to her parents when they’re welcomed to the neighborhood. she stays out past when the street lights come on and hangs out with the kids who smoke behind the roller rink on the other side of town. apparently, she doesn’t care about anything that doesn’t interest her even the slightest bit.

she’s different. jihyo likes different.)

so when tzuyu’s parents invite her family over for a welcoming dinner, tzuyu doesn’t gawk with stars in her eyes like her gullible parents do when jihyo’s father mentions the latest story of how they met.

(this time, it’s a simple meet-cute at a burger joint in the summer of 1935. jihyo’s father spills a milkshake on her mother's skirt. when their eyes meet, it’s apparently a beautiful beginning. there’s a quick wedding and jihyo arrives a couple years later. the rest is history.) 

and tzuyu just doesn’t care because that’s all it is to her—a _story_.

jihyo rolls her eyes. she sees tzuyu do the same over a bite of mashed potatoes when her mother mentions the milkshake was chocolate and that _stains_ . jihyo smiles.  
  


* * *

  
( — 1976.)

  
“do you believe in soulmates, tzuyu?”

tzuyu turns from where she’d just gently placed a vinyl on her deck— _roadrunner by the modern lovers_ —and gives jihyo a long look.

“i believe in loving someone.” she stops long enough to let the sounds of the song fill the room, then settles on the floor beside jihyo again. “but at the same time, i don’t _need_ to love someone like _that_ either, you know?”

jihyo nods, because she does know. it took her years to figure that out. yet here is tzuyu, just freshly nineteen and still learning about life, beating out the decades upon decades that jihyo possesses.

tzuyu is what jihyo wishes she was when she was unsure. tzuyu only says what she knows and with finality. and jihyo couldn’t have picked a better person to look up to despite their vast difference in life experiences.

(she couldn’t have picked a better person to call her best friend. her life partner.)

tzuyu looks at her when jihyo remains silent after that, and the younger girl places her hand on jihyo’s between them. it’s an uncommon occurrence, because tzuyu values her personal space greatly, so jihyo knows she’s serious when she whispers, “and don’t worry about if you don’t find that certain someone you may or may not need to love, too. you’ve always got me.”

and jihyo knows she does.

/

_“can we stay a little longer here this time?” jihyo questions when her parents tell her of their plans one gloomy saturday afternoon. the windows of the home they’ve been in for the past three years shake with a loud clap of thunder, but none of the three barely blink as jihyo practically begs._

_they don’t question it or get to even think about it. they see the way jihyo perks up when the doorbell rings despite the rain and they hear tzuyu yell for their daughter to hurry and let her in before she freezes. they smile and decide that maybe, just maybe, they can scrape by with another year before people get suspicious._

/

“do you promise to come visit?” tzuyu questions as she helps jihyo place the last of her shirts into an already overpacked suitcase nearly four months later.

(jihyo hates that it’s all crumbled so quickly. hates that all it took was for one unassuming man to find out their secret. hates that they had to take care of it, _him_ , and now have to leave the life they’ve created here.

hates that she has to leave tzuyu.)

jihyo doesn’t promise, but she does smile and tzuyu seems to take that as her agreement, anyway. she goes on to tell jihyo about the new puppy her parents promised to get for her now that she’s officially ready to move out on her own, and jihyo hates that she’ll never see tzuyu this happy again.

she’s been okay with leaving before, has never had a single regret whenever she stepped foot out of an old town. but she’s never had a person she had to leave, either. never had another heart attached so securely to her own. she’s never had a chou tzuyu before.

“i’ll miss you,” she blurts out in the middle of the younger girl brainstorming dog names— _wags_ is horrendous, but it makes tzuyu smile so jihyo allows it without any teasing—and feels her eyes sting from even the idea of having to walk away and never look back.

tzuyu’s got her arms around jihyo in an instant, a laugh bubbling out of her throat as the older girl sniffles pitifully into her shoulder, “i told you before that you always have me. no need to cry.” she tsks and pats jihyo’s head, ”you’ll get more wrinkles than you already have.”

jihyo snorts and whacks at her arm.

“brat. nevermind, i changed my mind. i won’t miss you.”

tzuyu smiles.

——

unsurprisingly, jihyo cries again when tzuyu practically chases after their car to properly say goodbye despite waving them off no more than ten seconds ago.

the younger girl is out of breath and her hair is just starting to stick to her forehead with little beads of sweat when she finally catches up at a stop sign, but jihyo still bursts out of the car and into her arms, tears running down her cheeks and a promise of never forgetting tzuyu for as long as she lives spilling from her mouth.

(years and years. decades. lifetimes. jihyo has all the time in the world to remember tzuyu.)

jihyo’s father calls for her and tzuyu’s grip tightens like she refuses to let go.

(jihyo wishes she wouldn’t.)

but tzuyu does with a kiss to the crown of jihyo’s head. it doesn’t feel final, almost, the way that tzuyu looks at her, like she knows jihyo isn’t gone for good. but then, with a sad smile on her face, and an _i’ll be seeing you_ thrown over her shoulder, she turns and walks back down the sidewalk.  
  


* * *

( — 1980.)

  
when jihyo sees tzuyu again, they’re both older.

jihyo looks the same, but she’s able to play it off with a mixture of easy smiles and eyes that shine when her words drip with honey when someone catches a slip of the tongue from her and becomes suspicious.

but tzuyu looks different. the baby fat that surrounded her throughout their years together has completely vanished, leaving nothing more than sharp angles of a jaw and curved cheekbones. from what jihyo can see from this distance, the girl has grown, too. awkward limbs that jihyo had promised she’d grow into now curled confidently over her chest. and her hair is now a dirty blonde compared to the black jihyo last saw her with, and mutedly, she briefly notes that tzuyu could probably suit any color she tried.

but it’s her eyes that grab jihyo. her eyes are a little colder, more calculating, and unsure as she speaks to a random person that calls her name. but when they catch jihyo’s for the first time in four years across a crowded campus, they soften and pinch, curious before realization hits. that tell-tale smile curls onto her lips as she excuses herself and makes her way over.

jihyo meets her halfway, because she’s never been one to make tzuyu do all the work between them, and throws her arms around the younger girl with such ferocity that they almost topple over in the middle of the crowd.

tzuyu laughs and asks how she is, but it doesn’t register because all that echoes through jihyo’s head is tzuyu, tzuyu, _tzuyu_.

her best friend.

her life partner.

her tzuyu.

——

“i told you that i’d see you,” tzuyu comments hours later after class has ended and the sun has sunk, when jihyo settles down beside her. they’re sat on jihyo’s couch, plates full of take out italian food from a hole-in-the-wall cafe that jihyo frequents since her move to town and subsequent enrollment in the local university, and she thinks it’s quaint, isolated and homely enough for someone like tzuyu to enjoy, too.

tzuyu takes a bite of a noodle and hums in appreciation. jihyo smiles.

“you did. i’m glad you meant it.”

tzuyu reaches over and grabs jihyo’s hand gently, cradles it against her chest.

“i’ll always mean it. and like always, i’m staying with you.”

it’s simple, the way tzuyu says it. like it’s a fact, like it’s something she’s always known, and that jihyo should always remember.

jihyo smiles and squeezes her hand, “and i’m staying with you.”  
  


* * *

( — 1981.)  
  


“are you sure about this, tzu?”

tzuyu hums and jihyo glances back to where the younger girl is signing off on a letter to send to her parents. from what jihyo could see before she slipped it into an envelope, she wishes them well and tells them that she loves them. she mentions that this might be the last letter she can send for a while, if at all, but that she’ll never forget them.

(jihyo knows she won’t. tzuyu never forgets the ones she loves.)

“i’m sure about everything, jihyo.” tzuyu slides the letter into her bag and pats it, like it’s a reminder that this is final. “i’m sure about this decision, this life choice. everything.”

jihyo could cry. and she hates that because she’s shed so many tears because of and _for_ tzuyu that she would think she’d be out by now. but she isn’t, because a tear slips from her eye anyway that tzuyu quickly wipes away with a smile.

“i thought i said no more wrinkles?”

like last time, jihyo still whacks her arm. like last time, tzuyu still smiles.

“you ready, park?”

jihyo looks around her now empty apartment. the books and trinkets she’s collected over the years and the picture of her and tzuyu from the carnival last month are tucked away in a box in the back of tzuyu’s beat up car, and it makes the place already look less lived in despite the furniture she leaves behind.

but she knows any place with tzuyu will feel like home.

“always.”  
  


* * *

  
park jihyo still doesn’t believe in soulmates. she still doesn’t believe in fireworks after your lips touch and a splash of color behind your eyes when you first meet.

but, she does believe in having someone who loves you unconditionally despite not believing in the idea of needing true love themselves. she believes in a life that feels more alive with someone else.

she believes in the bite on tzuyu’s neck that’s slowly healing and the smile on her face when she promises jihyo a lifetime by her side.


	2. like the seasons, we forever change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _to jihyo, the key to happiness is always having someone by your side. but she believes there is always room for more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been awhile; long time, no see and all that. 
> 
> enjoy.

( — 1994.)

jihyo meets them as a trio.

though, it is pretty hard not to notice them, jihyo notes. especially when two of them are literally dancing on top of the table she’s managed to grab in the back of a dingy club, while the third apologizes quietly as she tugs at her friends arms in hopes that they’ll get down.

they don’t. in fact, they seem to take her tugging as encouragement, because they only dance harder, the table groaning and shifting under their combined weight just enough that it sends them to the floor in a comically dramatic way mere moments after.

arms flail and jihyo’s drink gets thrown to the ground as there’s a whine and a quiet sigh of _i tried to warn you two idiots_ , and jihyo is instantly endeared.

she helps the two off the ground and offers them the booth at her table, while the third stands aside with an unreadable look on her face. she says nothing as jihyo runs to the bar and comes back with two bottles of water for them. says nothing as jihyo slips off her jacket and lays it across their laps when she notices the edges of their dresses ride up just a little too high on their thighs. she doesn’t even say anything when jihyo turns to her with a smile that most would call dazzling on a good day, and overenthusiastic on a bad one.

instead, she just quietly steps closer to her friends, stopping in front of them as though she’s a barrier between them and jihyo, and gives her an unimpressed look.

then, “what’s your motive?”

jihyo stops short and stares because—is she serious?

she blinks. the other girl just stares back, subtly stepping closer to her friends.

“i’m sorry?”

the girls eyebrows furrow and she stares at jihyo like she’s dumb (and honestly jihyo might be because she doesn’t understand what’s really happening here), and points an accusing finger at her. “no one just sits in the back of some dirty club all night, not talking to anyone, then just suddenly helps the first couple of drunk girls they see with no motive.” she crosses her arms over her chest with a huff that sends a few stray hairs flipping up for a moment before settling prettily over her face again. “so what’s yours?”

and jihyo just laughs, because really, what else could she do? she gets where the girl is coming from, she does, but it just amuses her that the human equivalent of what she would assume a marshmallow to be like any other time, is squaring up against her.

(if she was endeared before, she’s enamored now.)

the girl doesn’t seem to find the situation at all funny, because she childishly stomps her foot and quickly turns back to her friends with an over dramatic flourish.

“mina, momo—we gotta go.” she spares a glance to a still giggling jihyo over her shoulder, “i don’t like the company.”

“we can’t just leave her alone after she helped us!” one of them shouts, bangs flying as she uses her entire body to feel around the booth for the bottle jihyo had brought. it’s already half empty and some water sloshes out onto her lap when she waves it triumphantly (which she pouts at— _cute_ ), but she brandishes it out like it’s a trophy for first place. “she gave us water! she’s nice!”

the other nods seriously beside her friend, far more carefully holding her own water bottle up in a sign of drunken faith and agreement.

“and gave us her jacket,” she chimes in, sending jihyo a grateful smile. it’s full of teeth and gums and silver, and jihyo feels herself smiling back without even having to think about it.

“people aren’t just nice like that, dummies. not with stakes this high.”

and _oh_. now jihyo gets it, and she understands, and she quickly gets that her usual method of _help first, ask later_ doesn’t always translate well to those who aren’t used to her.

she clears her throat when Marshmallow (it somehow stuck and she refuses to call her anything else at this current moment) seems to be going on and on about the merits of ‘stranger danger’, then turns her smile from _enthusiastic_ down to _shy_ when she has her attention.

“sorry if it was too much. i really did just want to help because it seemed like they’d be—“ she glances to the duo who are now having a sword fight with their water bottles and chuckles lowly, “—a lot by yourself.”

she nods as if that’s the first smart thing jihyo has said since their meeting and jihyo offers out her hand, “let’s start over. i’m jihyo.”

before Marshmallow can say anything, a body pushes past her and slams into jihyo with a giggle and a squeeze. it’s the pouter, she notes a second later. 

“i’m momo.” she squeezes again and nuzzles into jihyo’s shoulder. and if jihyo listens hard enough, she swears momo _purrs_ when she pats her back. “thank you for helping me.”

jihyo waves it off and turns back to Marshmallow, intent on knowing her name because she _needs_ to know the name of the first person to ever challenge her (something even tzuyu won’t do because tzuyu just assumes everything jihyo says must be right in some way because jihyo just hasn’t been wrong yet in the entire time they’ve known each other), but the other chimes in before she can.

“i’m mina.” she doesn’t hug and latch onto jihyo the way momo did, but she does offer her a wave and another drunkenly dazzling smile that has jihyo’s heart thumping in a staccato _protect, protect, protect._

a throat clears and jihyo glances over the top of momo’s head where it still is perched on her shoulder. she offers a smile to a still reluctant Marshmallow, and holds her hand out again hopefully.

the girl sighs and runs a hand across her face in frustration before she takes jihyo’s hand in her own.

( _soft_ , jihyo thinks. _definitely like a marshmallow._ )

“sana.”

warmth explodes across jihyo’s chest—ironically like a marshmallow melting over a fire.

* * *

( — jihyo and mina; spring of 1994.)

sometimes, mina reminds jihyo of a queen in a past life. from afar, mina seems unattainable. almost as if jihyo got anywhere close to touching her, there’d be a gun aimed at her head within seconds.

(she figures sana’s scowl and momo’s concerned glance as mina stumbles and the way they each instantly grab ahold of mina’s hand to steady her after jihyo accidentally bumps into her is the equivalent, and it’s just as frightening as a loaded firearm.)

when she first met mina, she was all loose limbs and gummy smiles and airy giggles dancing atop a table. now, sat in the back of their newly shared theoretical physics class as she watches mina solve complex calculations that jihyo has been learning for over a decade but could never quite grasp, she realizes mina always has a hard shell that surrounds her when she has no liquid courage coursing through her veins.

there’s no smile that causes a crinkle by her eyes and no silver tooth that peeks out when she does smile in _that_ way that would utterly devastate anyone around her. it’s just all sharp edges and muted grays.

she pouts as mina catches her eye. something shifts, just barely, in mina’s gaze before it’s gone again and she’s back to explaining the process behind her theory.

jihyo sighs just as a strike of lightning burns across the sky and they welcome in the first storm of spring.

—

whenever jihyo and mina meet up to study, it’s almost always in the library, sometimes in a quiet corner of a quiet cafe, only once in jihyo’s apartment that she shares with tzuyu while the younger girl is gone, but never in mina’s shared apartment with momo and sana.

jihyo feels like it has put a barrier between them. like she knows two different mina’s: the fun, lively mina from the bar and their few hangouts together at parties jihyo somehow convinces her to go after grueling weeks of studying versus the somber, strict, and quiet mina from class.

they rarely speak about anything other than school. and after the one time mina had almost chewed her head off when jihyo dared to suggest that they catch dinner after the exams were over, she’d never brought it up again. but she knows there’s another mina underneath this hard exterior. someone softer and warm, someone who craves to open up to jihyo the way jihyo’s opened up to her.

but jihyo also knows that’s not who mina can be. not here, not now. 

so she waits.

—

the first time jihyo sees _her_ mina is during one of the worst downpours of the spring season. half the city is practically shut down because everyone seems terrified about the idea of a possible flood, and jihyo wonders briefly if they’re all overreacting because she’s just seen so much already.

but when the new cellphone tzuyu insisted she buy because _you have to keep up with the times and no one would use a pager, old lady_ rings so loudly that it breaks through the heavy rain outside and mina’s name flashes across the screen, jihyo doesn’t believe it is an overreaction.

because mina says things like _momo and sana had to attend a lecture_ and _i don’t do well in storms alone_ and _please, jihyo_ in such a heartbreaking way, that jihyo doesn’t even hesitate before she’s running out the front door and into the storm without a jacket.

she shows up outside the entrance to the campus dorms five minutes later practically soaked to the bone. but she barely feels the chilling weight of her clothes when she recalls mina and tells her she’s outside.

barely feels it when mina appears no later than a minute after, shock on her face at jihyo both actually showing up and showing up uncovered at that, before she ushers her inside.

barely feels it as mina’s patting her dry with a towel and scolding her quietly over her irresponsible actions and shoving a pair of gaudy lime green pajamas into her arms then pointing her toward the bathroom to change.

instead, all jihyo feels is warm. warm because mina called _her_. she trusts jihyo enough to be there with her through something as vulnerable as a fear.

(jihyo places her hand on her chest. lets the warmth wash over her the same way she had when tzuyu said she’d never leave her side. remembers this feeling and locks it away in her mind.)

—

ten minutes later, a dry jihyo settles on the small pullout couch beside mina, the smile on her face a stark contrast to the thunder that booms outside.

mina flinches and jihyo doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arm around her shoulder and pull her in, other free hand lifting to comb through her hair gently.

she whispers random words of promise that it’ll end soon and that she’s here for her, and she practically preens when mina settles against her comfortably.

mina doesn’t say anything, but the quiet way she settles back against jihyo after switching on a movie— _the princess bride_ , jihyo takes note when mina mumbles it’s her favorite—to help drown out the storm and offers up some of her favorite snacks, jihyo takes that as all the thanks she needs.

( _“you’re so cute, minari,” momo will comment an hour later to a still sleep drunk but blushing mina, cooing as the youngest girl swats her hands away at every attempt to pinch at her cheeks._

_according to momo, the moment she and sana had heard the rain start, they’d tried to leave their lectures as soon as they could. but the school had gone onto a temporary lockdown to stop the flow of students suddenly leaving and they were trapped inside. and when they couldn’t reach her phone, because she had fallen asleep on jihyo shortly after starting the movie, they panicked._

_but even sana would bitterly note that it was less worrying to find out that mina had, in fact, not gone crazy in the middle of a storm by being alone, but was in the comfort of someone she felt safe with._

_(jihyo pretends not to hear the scoff sana lets out after mentioning mina was comfortable with jihyo of all people.)_

_mina whines when momo successfully gets ahold of her right cheek and jihyo smiles when she shifts away, closer into jihyo’s embrace for safety from the childish attack._ )

—

a week of nonstop storms later finds mina on jihyo’s doorstep with a smile and a tin of extra muffins from the batch she baked last night. 

she promises they’re edible with a smile and a twinkle in her eye. and when tzuyu peeks over jihyo’s shoulder excitedly at the opportunity to eat something good for once (because neither of them can really cook and tzuyu is tired of the pitying looks the old lady from across the hall gives them whenever she offers her leftovers to them) and whispers _can we please keep her?_ through a mouthful of a chocolate chip muffin she’d snatched when neither of them were looking, mina laughs and tells them she’ll stay as long as they both want.

through the window, jihyo sees the sun peek through the clouds.

it feels like it’s welcoming mina in, too.  
  


* * *

  
( — jihyo and momo; autumn of 1994.)

according to mina, momo doesn’t have a bad bone in her entire body.

( _“once, a boy broke her glasses on the playground. and instead of crying or getting mad, she just gave him half of her poptart and offered to push him on the swing.”_

_“that doesn’t seem logical. it’s fair to get mad at that.”_

_mina hums. “momo doesn’t do mad. she just loves people and thinks the best of them. even if they hurt her.”_

_her eyebrows dig down over her nose at that, at the thought of momo ever being hurt, and jihyo realizes she doesn’t like the way that sounds._

_“why would she think the best of someone who hurts her?”_

_“because momo thinks there’s already so much bad in the world, why should she add more?”_ )

she doesn’t curse when jihyo accidentally drops the last slice of the pizza that momo was thinking about all day. she just tosses jihyo a lazy smile, slings an arm over her shoulder, and offers to treat her to dinner the following night.

when momo meets tzuyu for the first time and the younger girl casts a bored, almost unimpressed look at momo’s too bright overalls and horribly crimped hair with nothing more than a _you look like the uglier version of throw-up_ , momo just laughs and hugs her because _she’s so cute, jihyo! why didn’t you ever tell me she was this adorable?_

jihyo thinks momo is nice. she reminds her of the feeling jihyo gets when the leaves change colors and she gets to settle in with hot chocolate and a good book.

stable, warm.

  
happy.

—

of the three of them, momo is easily the one jihyo gets along with the easiet. despite mina’s slow acceptance and sana’s obvious reluctance to acknowledge jihyo, it’s momo who always manages to offer jihyo an invitation to hang out at the arcade in the town center or drags her along to a late lunch on a saturday afternoon. it’s momo who invites herself over to jihyo and tzuyu’s whenever she wants, some of mina’s homemade treats stowed away in her backpack, and declaring that they’re going to have a weekend long sleepover because they need to bond more. 

it’s momo who makes jihyo feel whole in a way that’s completely different to the way tzuyu, or even mina, does.

—   
  
the first time jihyo doesn’t think momo is nice is when jihyo accidentally lets her frustration about sana’s chilliness toward her out.

it’s after momo tells her about the apparent cute way that sana sneezes that she makes a comment about how she doesn’t believe sana _can_ be idly cute because sana only ever frowns around _her_ , never invites _her_ , never acknowledges _her_ , that it just makes her come off as a major _bitch_ when all jihyo is doing is trying to be her friend.

momo says nothing for a minute, just stares down at the book in her hands, but jihyo knows she isn’t reading it anymore. then she sets the book aside, sweeps all her scattered belongings into her backpack, and quietly makes her way to the door.

before she knows it, momo’s halfway down the hall toward the stairs and jihyo’s quickly following behind, calling her name all the while as momo pointedly ignores her.

when she finally catches up and grabs at momo’s wrist, the girl yanks from her hold and turns to face jihyo so abruptly that jihyo can’t help but step back in worry. because momo’s eyes are wet with unshed tears and her hand grips the strap of her bag so tightly that jihyo audibly hears her knuckles pop against the strain.

“momo? are you—what happened?” jihyo reaches for her, just stopping short of touching momo’s shoulder when the girl glares at her hand, “come back in so i can help you.”

momo scoffs and it makes jihyo’s back straighten. because momo _never_ scoffs. she only laughs and giggles and whines and drawls. but never scoff. it doesn’t fit her voice, too rough where momo is soft.

“you can’t help when you’re mean, jihyo.” momo wipes at her check when a tear finally falls and stares jihyo down angrily. “i don’t like mean people.”

(it reminds jihyo of a blazing forest fire over the dead autumn leaves, unable to be stopped before it consumes everything.)

jihyo scours her brain, tries to remember when she was ever mean to momo since the day she knew her. when she doesn’t come up with anything and looks to momo for help, the girl just rolls her eyes.

momo doesn’t roll her eyes. they shine too bright, like a clear night above a bonfire, to be sullied by anything like eye rolling.

“you said mean things about sana, jihyo. you don’t get to do that.”

( _“it feels like it’s been forever since i’ve known them,” momo comments after jihyo asks how long she’s been friends with mina and sana on their third time hanging out._

_“mina just randomly showed up one day during high school—something about a smarty pants exchange program for foreigners, then just stayed when she decided she liked it here. it just made sense for her to be with us, like she couldn’t be anywhere else.”_

_jihyo nods, because she gets that, remembers that same feeling she had when her parents first told her she might have to leave tzuyu. jihyo couldn’t be where tzuyu wasn’t, and now she never has to be._

_she figures the bond the trio share is the same. if not more._

_“and sana.” momo lets out a breath so heavy her body sags into the couch when she relaxes after letting it out. “sana has been there since the beginning. like, we-slept-in-the-same-playpen beginning. i’ve seen her go through a lot—people weren’t nice to her and left her by herself. and i didn’t like it, so i stuck with her. then when mina showed up, it just clicked.”_ )

jihyo goes to grab momo’s hand, and when she catches it, she’s grateful momo doesn’t brush her off again.

“i’m sorry, momo. i wasn’t thinking. i was just frustrated that she never gives me the time of day despite trying so hard and it just slipped out.”

momo looks to the side and carefully pulls her hand from jihyo’s again.

“i appreciate it, but i don’t need your apology, even though i know you mean it. i just don’t like what you did, and i don’t want to be around it right now.”

before jihyo can try again, momo’s down the stairs and the last thing jihyo hears is the slam of the door.

—

whenever jihyo happens to see momo after that over the next few weeks, the girl always seems to be like the fallen leaves scattered at her feet that blow in the wind—untouchable, too fast for her hand to grasp and hold onto.

there’s always a lecture to get to. a club to meet up for. a dinner that can’t be missed.

(once, momo had even said that her pet fish had to be taken to the movies because he really wanted to see pulp fiction so she couldn’t stay around and talk. 

her eyes had been pleading and her lower lip trembling so bad that jihyo didn’t even have the heart to tell her that was the worst excuse ever. so she let her go with a nod and an even bigger hole in her chest.)

tzuyu, annoyed at jihyo’s constant complaining and pushing her out the door for class that morning, tells her to get over it, because _obviously she doesn’t want to stay. we— **you** —don’t need people who don’t stay. _

(jihyo knows it hurts tzuyu, too, that momo just stopped coming around. because tzuyu also likes for people to stay when she deems them worthy enough, and now jihyo’s ruined that.)

mina, sympathetic but wary before she turns back around in her seat again, tells her she’ll come around because _momo doesn’t stay mad for long. just give it time._

and sana, partially smug like she knew this would happen but still scowling as she corners jihyo outside one day, tells jihyo to _stop following momo around like a lost puppy. you didn’t deserve to have someone like her around anyway._

jihyo watches sana saunter over to where momo leans back against the wall outside of her last lecture after that. watches how sana latches onto momo’s arm and whispers into her ear, all while her eyes stay firmly focused on jihyo. watches how momo throws her head back and laughs, so loudly that it rings through the courtyard (and echoes in jihyo’s mind because she hasn’t heard that laugh in ages—and she realizes how much she misses it.)

watches how sana leads momo away from her.

the wind suddenly blows when the duo turn the corner and she can no longer see them, and jihyo shivers at the chill in the air, pulling her coat tighter around her.

all the autumn leaves in her chest have burned away and winter has come to freeze her heart.  
  


* * *

  
( — jihyo and sana; winter of 1994.)

jihyo doesn’t know why she’s so interested in sana.

the girl never gives her the time of day, and when she does, it’s usually accompanied by an annoyed eye roll or her completely ribbing jihyo over something she said. she doesn’t smile jihyo’s way like she does with momo and she doesn’t gently sling an arm around her shoulder and cuddle with her like she does mina. 

she just ignores, and forgets, as if jihyo is nothing more than the dirtied snow under her boots.

yet, stupidly, jihyo is still so interested.

— 

“i saw that girl you know on my way home,” tzuyu mumbles around a mouthful of spaghetti. jihyo’s nose scrunches in disgust and she mumbles something about the younger girl swallowing before talking. tzuyu just shrugs innocently, but does as she says, then, “the blonde one. sana, right?”

when jihyo nods, tzuyu hums distractedly, “apparently she recognized me, even though we’ve never really talked.” tzuyu clears her throat, then sits up straight as she lets her voice pitch higher, imitating sana’s usual lilting tone, “ _you’re jihyo’s little… whatever you are, right? can you tell park to stop sniffing around my friends now? it’s getting creepy_.”

in an instant, tzuyu’s back to digging into her food and jihyo pushes her own away, appetite suddenly forgotten. is it really that easy for sana to just dismiss her, even to the point where she has to get tzuyu to relay a message she easily could have done herself? it’s embarrassing, almost, at how this makes jihyo feel.

“she’s kind of rude to you, you know?” tzuyu comments, chin propped on her hand as she glances at jihyo. “i get why you like mina and momo, overall—you’re a people person, unfortunately. but you like _good_ people, why are you bothering with someone who wants you to disappear?”

jihyo sighs. she doesn’t know.

— 

oddly enough, three days later, sana does actually come to jihyo.

she’s alone, which is new considering she’s either always with momo and mina, or has a gaggle of lovesick fans following her around. and jihyo wonders if she should be afraid to be alone with her, because who knows what sana might do when she has no witnesses?

she’s debating the pros and cons of actually turning tail and running the opposite direction when sana pulls an envelope from her bag and shoves it against jihyo’s chest. her face is unreadable and her finger pokes hard against jihyo’s chest from where she’s holding the envelope up, and jihyo can’t help but stare.

(it’s unfair, really, that sana is still this pretty even when she’s this way. it’s unfair that even though she rolls her eyes, jihyo still catches the way the sun hits them just right and reminds her of warm melted chocolate on a cold winters day. that her voice, sometimes harsh and bitter like the cold wind, still sometimes wraps around jihyo like a warm scarf when she hears gentle words tossed to mina or momo in passing.

it’s really unfair.)

“for some reason, you’ve been invited to our place for our annual new year’s party,” sana mumbles, hand falling away when jihyo finally takes the envelope and opens it. there’s a card inside, homemade and childish, with a hand-drawn picture of a dog welcoming in the new year that makes jihyo smile instantly. underneath the drawing, the words _if she’s nice :(_ _jihyo and big little tzuyu are invited to a ball-busting new year’s extravaganza party!_ are scribbled out in momo’s familiar handwriting and jihyo blinks owlishly.

“momo invited me?”

sana scoffs, jihyo bristles.

“for some reason or another, she _missed_ you, and told me to personally give this to you. said it’s about time everything gets settled.”

jihyo nods. nods again when words don’t come. then nods once more when it finally settles.

“tell her i’ll be there. i’m not letting her get away again.”

sana stares at her as if she’s seeing something new for the first time, and jihyo feels her back straighten under the scrutiny. it’s the first time sana’s truly looked at her as if she was a person, and jihyo bathes in the moment for as long as she’s allowed for.

“i’m watching you, park.”

and like that, sana is gone.


End file.
